Caldo Del Cielo, Part IV...

"Como al caballo blanco
le solté la rienda
a ti también te suelto
y te me vas ahorita..."
- Mana, Te Solte La Rienda

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
The Paz Files

BOCA GRANDE, Texas - He'd made hard love most of the night, even after he'd scolded her for the make-up he thought was excessive, the bright-red lipstick he'd erased with his own face and the dark eye shadow that had lost the battle to his wet tongue. "You dress like a border slut!" he'd screamed during the first pangs of unbridled lust, when he'd ripped the buttons off her red, nylon blouse and then put his hand down her skirt and torn it apart. "Don't you know you are my wife?" he'd asked after disrobing her. "My friends could see you at the party, and they all wanted to lay you! Right there - on the goddamned spot!"

Louella Torres, daughter of a local politico, could only sob. Her pain came from Julio's anger, but it also was carrying the sort of fear one thought of when about to be hurt badly. Their baby, little Billy Jack Torres, was sleeping in the next room. Louella dropped to her knees as Julio lowered his pants and presented himself to her. She knew he liked that, and maybe, she thought, it'll calm him down. Julio energized his pelvis and welcomed her with a deep breath. Somewhere, a mariachi tore into a tune for last call inside one of those low-rent border cantinas Julio knew well. He was the sort of lover who could always throw a good Mexican song onto his brain to set the mood for lovemaking. Louella moved slowly, knowing her husband's sexual preferences well.

She had been born to a poor family, but all of the women in the tribe managed to stay married, to keep their men even when they strayed. One of her brothers-in-law had made a pass at her, but she'd not told Julio about it. His name was Andres, a bricklayer. Louella had been visiting her sister's home and Andres had whispered what the Spanish call "a palabra indecorosa;" that is, he told her he wanted to have her from behind. Louella had not told anyone, and especially not her husband.

He'd have killed Andres, that she knew. With his fists. Or with a broken beer bottle. Or maybe even run him over with his pickup, over his head for sure. He'd beaten the life out of the mailman after Julio caught him eyeballing Louella when they had been working out in the front lawn. The postman's eyes had stayed on Louella's ass too long, was Julio's feeling. The beating came a few days later and Julio would only say that the mailman had learned his lesson. Still, he told Louella to get rid of her Daisy Duke shorts, and she had done it, throwing them out with the week's trash.

Now, she wondered about their marriage. Julio was insanely jealous, although she also knew that he had roving eyes, himself. What to do, had been her principal question for weeks. She still liked him, but something told her he was not the man she'd married.

"Get on the bed," he said, gruffly, and Louella rose to her feet and turned to climb on the bed. Julio patted her behind and said something about it being a nice ass. Louella knew his moves. She fell on her tummy and waited on him.

In the morning, she would tend to her bruises, take a long warm bath and get ready for another day. It was a life...

- 30 -